


The Space Between Us

by kitausuret



Category: Marvel 616, Venom (Comics), Venom: Space Knight
Genre: Domesticity, Nighttime, Other, Past Relationship(s), Regret, Reminiscing, Rewrite of an older work, Symbruary, enough light/dark metaphors to make this purple prose, musings, original work in second chapter, sleeping, takes place during Venom #154, the symbiote likes to watch Eddie sleep, thinking about things IN SPAAAACE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitausuret/pseuds/kitausuret
Summary: One quiet night in New York, rebound to its old host, the Venom Symbiote thinks about the life it's led the past few year. It thinks about life, love, and the past, present, and future that lies ahead of it.(rewrite of a fic originally written in October 2017 and posted on Comics AminoSymbruary Day 1/2: Rewrite/Redraw)
Relationships: Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, Flash Thompson/Venom Symbiote (mentioned)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14
Collections: SYMBRUARY





	1. February 2021

**Author's Note:**

> The following fic is a rewrite of a short piece I did as part of Inktober for Writers a few years back. I always was a little unhappy with how the original turned out, but I liked the idea of the symbiote thinking back on its past and reflecting on how it could improve things in the present and future. 
> 
> Back when I wrote the original, I was still very much in the salty "I am Upset about Space Knight being over" mindset. As I've written more and more and honed my interpretation of the characters, looking back at my old writing is a little hard. I wanted to make this rewrite a little less longing and a little more hopeful. 
> 
> For the sake of the prompt, I have put the original as the second chapter.

The symbiote rather liked evenings. 

It supposed that wasn’t so surprising - it had been born in the blackness of space, spent the majority of its days tucked safely into the darkness of a host, and its nights normally consisted of keeping an eye on this or that issue. Night meant safety, hidden in the shadows between city streetlights. They would have to go to the top of the Empire State just to see the stars due to all the light pollution, but the city was still dark enough to keep them hidden from wandering eyes. It was born in darkness, lived in darkness, and thus thrived in it. 

But it was more than just familiarity that had bred in the symbiote a particular fondness for that brilliant absence of light. Night reminded it of the year it had spent in the black of space, growing and learning and changing. It was on quiet nights like this it would think of another whom had smiled fondly upon it, pupils wide against green irises as he went over their day with his partner. Sometimes, he would just gaze out the window in his quarters at the warp-distorted stars as they raced past. The symbiote had no real interest in the expanse it knew as intimately as itself, but instead watched its host as he lit up brighter than a newborn nebula; brighter than Times Square on New Year’s Eve. 

It had been just over four months since it had seen its host last. 

Not to say that such a loss made it appreciate the night less, or even that it was spending nights alone. The reality was quite the opposite - its time away had been an invaluable opportunity to sort through its history, its relationships, and its memories… However pleasant or painful they might have been. All these things, though thought to be torn away, had eventually come back. 

And this night, as it turned its wide, bright gaze to the man asleep on the bed in this tiny apartment (barely bigger than quarters on a starship), it was grateful for those memories. Eddie Brock’s face twitched in the depth of sleep, and the symbiote stretched out a tendril to brush across his cheek. As if subconsciously reacting to its affectionate gesture, he settled almost instantly. The television set flickered like the radar screens it had grown accustomed to, and not for the first time, it felt that not so much had changed in the last year. It was getting a second chance with Eddie, the way it had with its last host. What more could it ask for?

Maybe for time to run backwards; to go back years and change things. Memories flooded their bond, unwelcome thoughts of a time that the symbiote hadn’t been there. Something shook deep within its core as it watched Eddie relive being bound on a cold tile floor, the hiss of a container, red-orange tendrils flicking out, enraged at the injustice they had been dealt their whole life-

The symbiote squeezed his hand, hoping the gesture would be welcome. There was so much they still needed to talk about. Eddie acted content to simply be together again, but a comfortable complacency could only last so long. They needed to be brave enough to face reality together, but this time, the symbiote thought they could. There existed things in this universe far more frightening than warlords and demons and masters and crime - things like love and hope and honesty. 

But what use was fighting the evils of this world, if not to keep the good alive? What good was a second chance, if not taken full advantage of? It had taken half a dozen hosts and coming full circle for the symbiote to realize that. 

And not for the first time, it was grateful for all things it had learned; for the ones it had known and, indeed, loved. 

Eddie Brock.

Flash Thompson.

More alike than they would ever know. 

Closer to the symbiote’s soul than they would ever realize. 


	2. October 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The original version of "The Space Between Us"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original version of the work in the prior chapter.

There was something cathartic about complacency. There was something to be said for a life that wasn’t a complex web of villains and space-faring and demons. There was something good that could come of returning to one’s roots. 

But it would never be as it once was. 

On the television, images flickered; late-night broadcasts for those who couldn’t or didn’t need to sleep. An inky black face hovered just a foot from the screen, unblinking white eyes taking in the scene. It was Wednesday, so there were no doctor shows on the box. There were only long, long advertisements for things that didn’t make any sense. Special ways of eating. Special ways of exercising. Special ways of doing things with other humans. You could make money off of anything.

It was almost criminal.

The current advertisement featured a man running barefoot across the beach with a woman. They smiled at each other but he wasn’t sure they were actually happy to be running on the coastline together. They were just actors, after all. Apart but for the currency they received to be in this commercial. Paid to look at each other. Paid to play a part. 

Behind him, Eddie Brock shifted on the mattress, dead asleep after another exhausting day of unemployment. The symbiote turned to his host. Once upon a time, there would have been no secrets between them. They had been one being. Eddie had even given him the very name he adopted and kept after their separation: Venom. When he regained the memories of his past hosts, it had seemed frivolous at the time to look back. Things had been good. Things had never been better. 

Flash Thompson had been fond of the idea: One day at a time. Always moving forward. 

He looked back at the TV. The humans were still on the beach, explaining to their late-night audience how the diet had changed their lives. Venom remembered, somewhat wistfully, running along a coastline with Flash. Granted, it had been on a planet thousands of light-years from here… but the feeling had been all the same. He remembered the rush of endorphins; the elation they’d shared. 

Without him, Flash couldn’t run. He couldn’t even stand without some kind of artificial or external support. At first, Venom had been something Flash had taken for granted; a tool, like the prosthetics he’d eventually started wearing. After their return to Klyntar, that had all changed. They’d become partners. They’d needed each other on more than just a basic level. When they were together, it had been a binding by common goals: Growth. Understanding. Heroics. Flash had wanted so badly to be a hero, he’d re-instilled the same desire in Venom.

Eddie, though…

The man moved again in his sleep, muttering. Venom at last turned his full attention to his host, carefully snaking tendrils in to catch a glimpse of his mind. Eddie’s subconscious had drifted to a horrible memory: being bound up and forced to bond with Toxin by Crime Master. The idea that two of his hosts had been deeply affected by the villain’s actions - both through the forcible bonding of Toxin and the creation of Jack o’ Lantern - troubled him. But there was little he could do about that now. 

Venom couldn’t change the dream, but he could at least release a small flood of neurochemicals to ease the pain. He’d done as much before with Flash; many times, even before the cleansing. Not from a place of caring, granted, but rather out of the desire to keep a healthy host. He wondered if Eddie thought he was doing the same for Venom. 

Eddie hadn’t asked for this life. He said he enjoyed being rebonded; said he only wanted what was best. But there was still a chasm between them that Venom didn’t know how to cross. He hoped some good would come of this. Indeed, there was something cathartic about complacency, but true development came from one thing:

Action.


End file.
